Chapter Four
What the hell? Finley blinked a few times to clear his vision, but it still took him a few seconds to realize he was lying flat on his back and staring at the barn rafters.
He’d never paid attention to the building’s construction before because his only concern was its four-legged inhabitants and the people who cared for them.
Those were some big-ass beams supporting the roof and protecting the precious horses under his care.
Why am I on my back? Am I hurt? His head had landed on a bag of shavings he planned to spread in the cleaned stalls.
The world around Finley stopped swimming, and he noticed a high-pitched alarm ringing through the barn. Was it a fire?
Panic spiked his blood, making it race through his veins.
Finley had to get the horses to safety. But wait…
They were already out. He’d been working alone to burn through frustration.
His trip to see his mother had only added more stress, and he’d picked up a stupid earworm on the ride back to the ranch.
He’d been shoveling shit and singing along with the song playing on an endless loop in his head, and bam!
Something had knocked him on his ass, but what?
Lightning? That didn’t feel right. Something had rung his bell, not fried his circuits.
Two faces came into view—one Finley knew well, the other he’d like to know better.
Both men looked at him with grave concern.
Their lips moved, but he couldn’t hear them over the alarm.
A fire? He didn’t smell smoke. The ringing seemed closer and not as loud as it had been.
Finley realized the ringing was in his ears.
He locked his gaze on Cash because the other man stole his breath.
Finley already had enough problems to contend with and didn’t want to add a lack of oxygen to the mix.
Was he breathing? Finley inhaled deeply, testing to see if his lungs worked adequately.
The ringing got quieter, but he still couldn’t make out the words Cash said.
His boss looked at the stranger, and Finley couldn’t help shifting his gaze too.
Christ, he was gorgeous. Black hair swept over a broad forehead.
Dark brows slashed down to form a vee over eyes so dark they looked black.
The man stared down at him with naked concern and something else in his gaze.
The sexy stranger blinked and erected a shield of indifference, but it was too late.
Finley recognized the emotion, and it called to something deep inside him like a lone coyote howling for its pack.
Butterflies fluttered in Finley’s stomach, and his blood heated with excitement.
But how had he ended up on his back in the barn staring at this beautiful lost boy?
A flash of memory detonated, clearing out his brain fog and reducing the ringing in his ears to a subdued hum.
Lightning hadn’t struck, at least not literally.
Finley had locked eyes with the sexiest man he’d ever seen, and something inside him had detonated with a whoosh.
The smoldering stranger had used a flamethrower to light Finley’s dormant pilot light after a six-month relationship detox.
He’d always been a little boy crazy with a habit of falling too hard and too fast and always for the wrong guy.
But this was… Finley scrunched up his face as he tried to find the right word to describe his reaction, and that’s when he noticed a dull ache in the center of his forehead.
The entire encounter came flooding back in high definition.
Gobsmacked by the newcomer’s beauty, Finley had stepped directly on the muck rake.
The handle had flown up and cracked him a good one on the forehead, causing him to stagger back and fall onto the bags of bedding.
Humiliation heated his cheeks, and he groaned.
“Finley, are you okay?” Cash’s concerned tone and worried blue eyes signaled his boss had mistaken the sound as a sign of physical distress, not mental anguish.
Finley tried to sit up and clear the air, but Cash placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to keep him still.
“Kieran, I need you to find Rueben Sanchez for me. He has emergency medical training and can assess Finley for a concussion.”
Finley had rattled his cage pretty well, but he was not concussed. “Not—”
Cash silenced his protest with a gentle squeeze.
Finley shifted his gaze to the gorgeous man, who seemed to look right through him with those obsidian eyes.
This stunning stranger might just be the most broken boy he’d encountered yet.
This guy’s pain hovered over him like a rain cloud, stirring Finley’s protective and baser instincts. Oh, baby, come stand under my umbrella.
“Kieran,” Cash said gently.
Kieran. A beautiful name for a beautiful man. He seemed to shake himself out of a trance at the sound of his name. “Um, yeah. Where would Rueben be?” Cash gave directions to the farrier barn. “Farrier?” Kieran asked.
“He’s a blacksmith who makes and fits the horses with shoes,” Cash explained.
Kieran glanced at Finley once more before nodding at Cash. “I’ll be right back.”
Finley watched Kieran jog out of the barn with Patsy at his side before knocking Cash’s hand aside and sitting up. He paused to ensure the barn didn’t spin before meeting his boss’s worried blue eyes. “I’m fine.”
“You should still lie down until Rueben gets here.”
He waved Cash’s suggestion away. “I’ve tumbled off horses plenty of times, and I’m no stranger to head trauma. The rake temporarily stunned me. I’m afraid I made a horrible first impression on Kieran.” Finley tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Who is he, by the way?”
“He’s the newest member of our staff, and I’d just started giving him a tour.”
“Recently released from jail?”
“Today,” Cash replied. “I just came from picking him up.”
“Ah.” That explained the rain cloud and broken spirit. Finley put his palm down on the concrete to push off, but Cash extended his hand and helped him to his feet. “Where do you plan to place Kieran?”
Cash rubbed the back of his neck as if carefully choosing his words. The gesture was so uncharacteristic that Finley knew what he planned to say, so he rescued his boss like Cash had done for many others.
“Does he have any experience with horses?”
Cash’s lips twisted into a slight grimace. “I haven’t asked yet, but I’m going to guess he doesn’t.”
“Why the stable, then?” But what he really wanted to ask was, “Why me?”
“He had incredible instincts with the dogs in the K9 program, and my gut tells me he’d make a wonderful addition to your crew. There’s just something about him that puts animals at ease,” Cash explained.
“Horses aren’t oversized dogs, though.” Thinking of Nellie and her determination to bite the hell out of anyone near her, Finley added, “One false step could have disastrous consequences.”
“There’s no one better to train Kieran than you.”
Finley worried his bottom lip between his teeth.
He trusted Cash’s instincts implicitly. If he said Kieran was a good fit for his team, he would be.
His hesitation had more to do with his reaction to the new guy.
Finley hadn’t met anyone to tempt him out of his self-imposed detox until locking eyes on Kieran, making him want to answer the lonely howl.
I’ll be your pack. It was instinctual to want to fix Kieran and make all his hurts disappear, but he’d learned the hard way that guys like him only knew how to take.
They were vampires, draining energy, souls, and sometimes Finley’s bank account, leaving nothing but a broke-ass husk of a man in their wake.
He’d worked too hard to heal from Keegan’s rejection and couldn’t risk a relapse.
Before Finley could say anything to dissuade Cash from placing Kieran on his team, the man in question returned to the barn with Rueben and Patsy.
“Hey, Rue,” Finley said jovially. “Sorry they pulled you away from your work. I’m fine. The bags of bedding cushioned the blow when I fell.”
The lanky Hispanic man removed his thick leather gloves and tucked them into the pocket of a matching apron. “Let me be the judge of that.”
He led Finley over to a bench and used the flashlight on Cash’s phone to check his pupils.
There was a lot of bitching and moaning about Rue blinding him, but he cooperated with his commands to look here and there.
Rueben ran through a series of questions that could identify symptoms that could indicate a concussion.
Was he nauseated? Did his head hurt? Finley answered no to those questions and the others that followed.
Then Rue tested his cognitive abilities.
He knew who and where he was and could provide the year and president’s name.
Rueben asked Finley to stand up and put him through a series of evaluations to check his balance.
“I’m good, Rue,” Finley said. “I’ve had concussions before, and this isn’t one.”
“I have to agree,” Rueben told Cash. “His eyes look good, his equilibrium checks out, and he’s coherent.”
Cash furrowed his steely gray brows. “But he moaned and sounded like he was in a lot of pain.”
“From humiliation,” Finley replied. “I only hurt my pride. Trust me.”
His boss held his gaze for a long time, and they exchanged an unspoken message.
Cash would trust Finley to know if he was hurt if Finley showed Cash the same courtesy with Kieran’s placement.
Cash could insist he take on the brooding, sexy man, but his boss didn’t run roughshod over his employees.
Yes, Cash was in charge, but he always gave them a say, which was just one reason they loved and revered him.
Rueben slid his gloves back on and pinned Finley with a somber glance. “Seek medical attention right away if your condition changes. It doesn’t take a hard hit to the noggin to cause damage.”